


Life is Like a Yo-Yo

by Goggles_and_Books



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goggles_and_Books/pseuds/Goggles_and_Books
Summary: It's up, it's down. Sometimes it starts spinning chaotically, pieces go flying off, and BOOM you have a black eye.Hello, I'm Blaine. When I first met the Doctor, I thought it was some sort of joke. Now, however, I trust him with my life.I know it's difficult to believe that some alien flies around space and time saving the universe with a historically inaccurate blue box, a screwdriver, and an ego the size of an almost- planet. Believe me, when I say, it is so impossible that I think it made itself possible out of sheer willpower. (rated teen for language)(Note, I also have the same story on both wattpad and fanfic, my concept my story. I just have it posted in multiple places)





	1. Scraped Knees and Suspicious Band-Aides

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, if you've been on wattpad or fanfic recently and this story seems awfully familiar, it's because I'm on all three! Anyway, enjoy. This was written before the new season and Bill, so it's not the most accurate, but still fun. Also, ao3 doesn't have italics.(more notes on bottom)

I slam into the ground.

Damnit, Blaine. I think to myself. Slow down.

My shoes are tied so that's not what tripped me, the pavement's smooth too. Did I seriously trip over my own feet? Well, that sounds like me. Blaine, the ever graceful.

Standing up I look around some, kind of an instinct now to make sure no one was watching. Of course, there was. Can't I just fall on my face in private?! No! The universe loves to laugh at my expense, then again so does everyone else.

He's leaning against a wall eyebrows raised, he's not laughing, though and he looks more surprised than amused. I guess it's not often you see someone go from a run to a crash once they're over the age of 7.

"Blaine" My mother comes rushing out the door and down the sidewalk "Blaine, sweetie, what have I told you about tying your shoes"

"But-" Oh what's the use, of course, they're untied. Damn shoes.

"Sorry mum didn't realise"

"Oh, and look at your jeans!" She sounds shocked. Honestly, I'm amazed that the state of my clothes surprises her anymore

"Those holes were there earlier" I sigh, though they weren't quite as ragged before I fell.

"And you wore them to school like that?!" She sounds like she's accusing me of kicking a dog.

Twice.

I'm tempted to pop off with "No, I didn't wear pants today, these are an illusion" But I prefer to have my phone rather than smart ass comments. Instead, I reply with,

"Yeah, sorry. They went with the jacket" That's technically not bullshit. Batman goes with everything.

Mum sighs and heads back inside leaving me to pick up the library books I had dropped. As I kneel I wince and hiss, holy shit my knees look like hamburger meat.

"Are you alright?" The man asks in a Scottish accent. When did he get over here? Last I knew he was across the street.

"No, I usually bleed from my knees while hissing" I can't stop the words. I don't even know him but I'm tired, hurt, and my brain feels like a static television.

"Well, I'm going to assume sarcasm here. You don't look like an Arelion."

"A What?!" What the hell? Arelion? Dafuq is that?!

"Never mind long story. Seeing as bleeding from your knees isn't your typical state of being I'm gonna hand you some band-aids and leave."

"You're gonna what?"

"Hand you some band-aids. I am the Doctor after all. Then I'm going to leave." Following true to his words he shuffles his hands around in his pockets and pulls out some band-aids.

I actually pause to put on the band-aids. I don't know why. I just look away and go to the task at hand. Hell, for all I know he could be some sort of murderer who kills by putting drugs on band aids and giving them to people who fall over!

So that might be a little extreme but still possible.

Especially since when I look up, he's gone. Just gone. Not leaving, he's just vanished.

I look at the band-aids on my knees. Oh well, if I'm going to die, let it be at the hands of a sadistic serial killer with drugged band-aids. At least it's unlikely with a bonus side of exciting.


	2. Knockity Knock

I continue down the sidewalk and into the house, retreating swiftly. Mum tries to be kind but she acts like I have some sort of disease that needs to be pitied. My dad... he isn't around anymore.

I pull my yo-yo out of my pocket, the repetition and predictability is calming. Up, down, up, down. Yanking on it with my fingers it spins through the air, I misjudge the distance and it slams into my desk.

Crack!

I wind it up before my mother thinks I'm breaking things again. She treats me like a child or a drooling idiot. She tries, but she's been told that that's what I am and she doesn't know any better. Every time I see that blue puzzle piece dangling from her neck, I want to look away, I want to cry just a little bit, I don't want to talk. She wears it like a badge to say "Look at me, look at what I deal with. I'm so strong, yay me." Biting the skin on my knuckles I block out those thoughts, being angry doesn't help anything. Trying to do anything about could make it worse, at least mum lets me be a bit childish. She lets me stay in my room when things get to be too much. She doesn't punish me for not talking sometimes. She doesn't abuse me to stop meltdowns and shutdown. I've heard of these things happening and worse, so I guess I should be thankful.

Not willingly, though.

Knockity knock That's weird, mother doesn't usually knock. She tromps up the steps and right into my room.

Knockity knockity knock.

Opening the door I look left and right into the empty hallway.

Knock knock knockity knock.

Is it over by the window? There's nothing there either. My breathing gets short and harsh. There's this ugly feel in my chest as I curl on the bed throwing a blanket over my head. No, I don't know what it is, just no.

Knock

Knockity knockity knock knockity

God, make it stop. Make it stop, there's nothing there. My world seems to dissolve around me, it's a blur of knocking and lights. I'm scared, I don't even know why, but I'm scared.

I can feel my brain slipping into that fight-or-flight mode. No matter how safe I am, it doesn't matter. My nails are digging into my palms as I press myself against the corner of my room.

I'm so scared and so out of it, I don't even realise that the knocking has stopped. At least until I look up and out the window.

The man is back, he's standing on the sidewalk outside the house. The wind seems to be blowing pretty hard.

Still panicked and tired I try to blame him for the knocking despite the rational side of my brain saying he couldn't have possibly knocked on my window.

Then again it was my rational side that caused everything to spiral down, something was knocking and I didn't know what and there was nothing there.

Fear+something that doesn't make sense+already stressed out+ plus strange irrational thing earlier= small meltdown.

Nice to know.

The man on the sidewalk is waving his arms and pointing some blue wand looking thingy places. Upon catching my attention he points down the street at the turn. I don't know what he's pointing but I think he wants me to meet with him?

Hell... maybe?

Am I still a little foggy headed? Yeah. Is meeting with the possible band-aid serial killer a bad idea? No doubt. Am I still going to do it? Maybe.

If he didn't cause the knocking, I have to know what did. If he did knock, I need to know why. Why didn't mum notice? She has a baby monitor in my room for heaven's sake. She didn't do anything about the yo-yo hitting the desk, or the knocking, or the meltdown.

I try not to tell myself that something is wrong. I really do. It's not working, but I try. Snagging my backpack full of stuff, my stolen pocket knife, and my yo-yo I sneak down the hall. Down the steps, and around to the back door. Through the backyard and over the fence I go, avoiding the kitchen window and racing down to the corner. Pocket knife open in my batman jacket pocket, I stare at the blue box. The door is open.

Just wide open, like an invitation to murder. I mentally steel myself for death as I approach.

"Come in, you're letting in a draft" The man yells from inside. From what I can see through the door, it isn't right, I see a room much bigger than the box itself.

No, I won't go in there. I step towards it. No, bad Blaine. That's really not smart. I step inside as the door closes behind me.

Goddamnit Blaine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, the mystery intensifies. Anyone wanna guess at what her response will be? Anyone surprised that Blaine is autistic? I'm trying to write Blaine as accurately as I can but it's hard to put some of these things into words. The feeling before and after a meltdown is hard to describe. Maybe not everyone feels the same way and that's ok. Don't feel bad if you're not part of the autism community and reading this, let it learn you a thing and enjoy it :) 
> 
> Also, in the original Blaine's thoughts were in italics. So if it's confusing I'm sorry.


	3. The Pieces Don't Fit

The lights inside the box are dim and calming, a six-sided control panel thingy is in the centre and the grey-haired man is leaning against it. I'm not shaking but I can't make the words leave my mouth. This isn't possible. This can't be real.

"Alien" I squeak, Of all the words I could have said it had to be aliens. What kind, though? Maybe I'm way off the mark, but alien seems to be the only word I can currently force from my mouth.

I could say it again but for all I know, that's racist.

"Yes, alien." He seems like he's waiting for me to say something.

I take a few breaths and try to speak "Spaceship? Inside of a box? Yours?" My voice is still squeaking and shaking.

"Close enough, now..." His voice trails off as he pulls that wand thingy from his pocket. It makes a weird cross between a buzz and a whine. The sound drives into my skull causing me to back up a step and wince. If anything the sound gets louder, echoing in my head until I want to scream.

My brain is trying to slip back into the fight-or-flight condition of a meltdown. Backing up against the door I try not to cry, a struggle to maintain some rationality. That sound hurts. Maybe normally it wouldn't bother me. Maybe in a normal situation, it would just be a bit annoying, but with nerves practically arcing with a frantic electricity and terror of it all the sound was one of the most grating things I had ever heard.

Once the hell noise is over, he stares at the device.

"Oh, well. That's not something you see every day" he says while frowning.

Before I can say anything he's already started talking again.

"You mentioned knocking-"

"No, I didn't." My words are still higher pitched and hard to say but the odds of him understanding sign language are next to none.

"Really, are you sure?"

"Yes" I didn't, did I? The questioning made me unsure. I didn't remember saying anything but...

"Oh, anyways. That knocking didn't have a pattern, did it? Four beats? Maybe a bit drumlike?" Four beats? Drumlike? That seems pretty damn specific.

"Who said anything about knocking-"

"Well, you just now for example. Now was it four beats that never-" He keeps cutting me off. It's only fair to interrupt as well.

"No, it wasn't. It seemed random. It kept moving whenever I tried to find it. And before you ask-" I stop him before he cuts in "I'm sure. What's important about it being four beats?"

"Because it would be bad. Four beats mean I might know you and in that case, somebody would probably wind up dead."

Would he kill me?! Upon catching the look on my face he backtracks.

"Not you, that friend tends to murder my other friends. Violently and without hesitation."

"Doesn't sound like a good friend."

He changes the subject. "So, if that isn't what happened, what's going on in your house. I got a reading of artron energy for a few squicks and then it was gone."

He pales. Scanning the entire room. The noise of the screwdriver is different now, lower.

"No." He sounds serious. "You didn't tell me about the knocking."

"Finally"

"Blaine, your name is Blaine. I know it as if you told it to me. Same as the knocking."

"That sounds stalkerish."

"Blaine, I want you to think about something. How are you talking?"

"What?"

"You were non-verbal when you entered the TARDIS. That's not something you overcome through sheer force of will."

He was right.

"The knocking, it didn't bother you because you didn't know where it was coming from. It bothered you because it was you."

"But-" My voice cuts off. Was he right? How was it me, though? My head was hurting, sharp and focused over the right temple. Just like there was a drill in my head.

The man rubbed his head. He rubbed his right temple.

Wake up, I have to wake up. Something's wrong. Something's horribly wrong. I'm dreaming.

It's like something screamed that in my head. The pieces click but there's a problem with the puzzle.A piece is missing. There's always a piece missing.

"Why?" I manage to say.

He looks up in a mixture of annoyance and surprise. It's a little confusing. "What do you mean?"

"Why am I dreaming? When did it start? I can't remember waking up this morning. What is causing this?"

"You know you're dreaming?"

"Yes. I don't know how. It's just... wrong. My mother didn't check when I hit the desk. The knocking. The fall, there was nothing to trip on. My shoelaces were tied, but when mum said something about them, they were untied."

"Oh course." Something about his expression and his tone of voice tells me he just figured out the puzzle. The missing piece included.

Then I woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo readers. Have you figured it out yet?
> 
> On a different note, no, Blaine is not always non-verbal. But shutdowns, meltdowns, and just random times she goes non-verbal, semi-verbal, or voluntarily mute. that's why she learned sign language. Her mother doesn't speak it, though, she's one of those people who believes if you can't say it out loud you shouldn't say it at all. That was the first cue. She shouldn't have been able to force the words like that, but it's a dream. A dream where you're supposed to be comfortable and happy as a fucking alien crab sucks your brain out through your damned skull.
> 
> On that happy idea, I say goodbye (for now)


	4. Dead Teachers and a Perturbed Parent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note before we start, The bit before is like a journal entry. Blaine doesn't usually keep a journal except for really weird things. Having a very complex nightmare and waking up with a pile of dust and ashes on her pillow example. Without further rambling, here is the story. It's about a week after the incident with the dream crab.

I read through the hastily written papers. The handwriting is five times worse than usual, probably because I was in a hurry to write it down before I forgot. I haven't forgotten yet. In the same box as the journal is a jar with as many ashes as I could scrape off my pillow.

I had woken up abruptly with the realisation that I was dreaming. With no evidence other than ashes and memories there was nothing to prove. Every day I checked for the blue box on the corner. Every day I was disappointed. I even googled old police boxes and they were concrete. The one in my dream was wooden, just another discrepancy.

The sound of my mother's footsteps on the stairs makes me slide the box under my bed and rush to pick up my computer. I have it on Tumblr as the door opens and my mother just walks in.

"Hey, are you ok? You've been pretty quiet recently." I know she cares, but I also know that my recent behaviour would mean being institutionalised. I'm only going to make that mistake once.

"Yeah" My voice creaks "I'm fine. Headphones broke the other day."

"Is that all?" She sounds pushy like she knows something.

"Why?" I immediately slip into defensive. I know she goes through my stuff but could she have found the notebook? I've been keeping the jar in a different place than the notebook for a while. It's one I slipped among my used notebooks on my desk. If it had stuck out or not looked worn enough would she have-

"Why didn't you tell me about the nightmares?"

Shit. She found it.

"Wh-what, H-h-h-h-how"

"You haven't been sleeping, you haven't been eating, I knew something was wrong. I know you understand why I had to-"

"No," I'm getting dangerously close to a meltdown. If I do, it will just prove to her I'm unstable. Still, it feels like someone has set a match to my emotions.

Did you know there's a coal vein that has been on fire for roughly 6,000 years? Something sparked, or lightening struck, and it never stopped burning. I feel a bit like that now. Like I was peacefully smouldering underground until somebody started poking holes.

"No, I don't understand. I don't understand why I can't keep to myself. Asking is one thing. Digging through my room when I would have told you is another." I'm keeping my voice low and calm. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of being treated like a 5-year old. I can't even talk to someone who doesn't know what I am for five minutes before my mother comes in and explains I have to go because I can't be left alone with people because my meltdowns can get violent.

"I can get you help-" She starts in again.

"I don't need your help. I know what your idea of help 's locking everything away until it comes rising back up years later and explodes. It's taking away my ways of dealing with the world. It's locking me up."

I sling my bag onto my shoulders. I need to go. I need move, to pace, to run.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting out. I need to get out."

"No, you don't. You need to calm down and stay right here."

"I am calm. I just need to stay that way." I grab the notebook from under by bed, using it to block the jar as I grab it too. Then, I'm out. Down the stairs, through the kitchen, out the door.

I wander, down the street, wondering where I should go. For all I know, the cops will show up.

Oh, she's a danger to herself. She won't know any better. She might get scared and hurt someone. She's not that strong. Please don't hurt her.

I'm so busy I run right into a car.

It's parked, thank god.

Staggering back I realise that the object isn't a car, it's not even the usual streetlamp or tree. It's a box.

A blue box.

I freeze, running a mental check. Bag, yes. Phone and headphones (not really broken, that was bullshit), yes. Knife, in my shoe. Everything else in my bag is probably untouched. Especially seeing as I made my own secret pocket to hide stimtoys in.

The blue box. That horribly inaccurate monstrosity. That subject of daydreams and nightmares. The doors are closed and locked.

I rattle them carefully and step back. As I'm about to start digging for a makeshift lock pick it swings open. A familiar face peeking out. It's not the grey-haired man. It's the English teacher from Coal Hill.

"Miss?" I ask uncertainly as she turns and yells at someone in the box.

"Look, I told you. This isn't where we're supposed to be. I said I needed to go back to the school. There's a student but there isn't a school."

"Miss, are you ok?" Now I'm spooked. Miss Clara is dead. We had a big memorial and everyone cried and my mother pulled me out of public school.

"Yes, fine. Remember to stay caught up on your work, it might be better to forget about this, though."

As the doors of the box close, a wheezing groaning sound echoes about the street. It fades in and out, each time the out bit lasts slightly longer and poof it's gone.

If it's gone, Why can still hear it? The sound is coming from somewhere close. Following instinct, I bolt to the corner where he appeared in the dream.

There it is. No dead teachers leaning out of the open doors. I have no pain in my skull. The pieces fit. It's real. It has to be real.

Please let this be real.


	5. But This Time In Real Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so, if you like this story SHOW IT if there is an issue with it, please let me know and I will see if there is something I can do or clarify. Before we get started, Clara might make an appearance as an immortal but live Clara was a fluke. Genuine TARDIS malfunction and they landed early. Well, let's not linger, shall we?

Please let this be real

I stumble and manage to flail around enough to stay upright. The doors are open, a good thing too since I'm not terribly good at stopping. There it is. The console, the grey-haired man, the lights, the flashing buttons.

"You-you're real." I'm gasping just a little. Mildly amazed that the meltdown feel has… well, it's not gone. More like it's something else tucked into a little brain corner and told to stay there until it can be sorted out. I might pay for that later but right now it doesn't matter.

'How did you know-"He starts. The tone of his voice is... confusing. Is it possible to sound both surprised but not? What is that?

"I heard you, I remember the- well the whatever it was. The dream when I came here before. The box is even on the same corner. You are however wearing a different shirt."

He stares for a second as he presses a finger against his teeth.

"You had a dream about a man in a blue box-" He's processing what I'm saying. Not quite looking at me, like he's looking at something from far away.

"Yes"

"And when said man in said blue box shows up, you make a beeline for it from how far?"

"Not that far actually, I ran into, like actually ran into you, over at that hill over there. Miss Clara stuck her head out, yelled a bit, and you vanished. Poof."

"Poof?" Now he sounds a bit incredulous. Then again, poof, had a squeak to it so maybe he thought is was an onomatopoeia?

"Well actually it was more of a-" I attempt to mimic the noise. "and then I heard it over here so I followed it."

"Well, you can leave now. I've got… stuff to do. People to meet. Planets to save-"

"Planets to save! I knew it! You are an alien!" I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet. "Do you travel through space in this? Is this a spaceship? Was Miss Clara an alien too? Are you 15 lizards in a human suit? Miss Clara was joking once and said she was 13 lizards in a human suit. Was she actually joking?-"

His expression. Goddammit, more mixed ones. This one is amused? Bored? Bitch face? Maybe the bitch face is the eyebrows.

"Yes, and time. Not quite. No. Not that I know of. Yes, she was joking-"

"Did she really kiss Jane Austen?" That question had been burning a hole in my brain for ages.

"Yes, now are you going to get out or not, there's a draft."

"What happens if I say 'oh hell no, I'm staying in here because you're an alien in an almost-spaceship with time travel and I want to get the hell off this planet'" I say indignantly.

"Well I would say 'Watch your language. Are you sure you want to stick around? Time travel is dangerous. I can understand that, and why are we speaking in subjective third person?"

"Yes, I want to stick around. It's time travel, right? You can see how I do, I can see if you're actually a bunch of lizards, and if you don't like me sticking around we go back to the same time I left." I might be getting too loud and talking like a squirrel on crack but I couldn't stop. I had to go. To get away, to explore. Change is hard, but this could be great.

"Fine." He doesn't sound angry, more like weary. "One trip. A reward for managing to find me. But the moment you vomit on the floor, I'm writing you off as hopeless."

"Deal." I'm confident for once. Especially since I think I just caught him chewing on a silicone mushroom pendant from stimtastic. I don't think he's going to judge me because my brain is a bit more complicated than your average person. The way he talks, the way the- well whatever this place is lit. The way he tugs on his sleeves and lapels.

"Oh and this has been bothering me for a bit, is alien racist? I know that if you're on a different planet etcetera you're the alien but still." I had to ask. I'm not getting kicked out for using the space equivalent of the n-word

"No, alien is not racist if you don't mean it that way. It's a general term."

"So calling you an alien is fine."

"Personally I prefer 'Doctor' or, if you're going to be vague about it "That one timelord with a blue box.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, compared to that last one, this is short! Any comments or ideas on what alien monsters/life forms/potatoes/lizards or time period? I was thinking a run in with the Paternoster gang. Because Victorian Silurian Lesbian. Because bipedal potato. Because GAYNESS


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so you can skip this but it's basically just character info on Blaine. I wrote it out during a bout of writer's block.

Blaine Damhsa

Species- Human (or 13-15 lizards in a human suit. The world will never know!)

Likes- her yo-yo ,Tumblr, spinning, movement, music, drawing, writing, electroswing music, youtube, flowing clothes, combat boots, netflix, going really fast. Cinnamon, ginger, and pumpkin space.

Special interests(past and current) Space, Aliens, Marine biology, psychology, human biology (how the body works and stuff), multiple webcomics (especially girl genius and trying human), Steampunk. Sci-fi, Various anime and manga (really an off and on thing). Norse, egyptian, and greek mythology (this includes the rick riordan series.) Marvel and DC movies shows and comics.

Dislikes- Assholes. Autism speaks, that goddamned blue puzzle piece, people yelling at her, people who think she's arguing but really she's explaining., people who talk to her when she's wearing great big obvious headphones! People who bully others, bullies in general, people who tell her not to stim, being touched when she doesn't know you were there, strangers touching her, instructions with no details (Ex. she would prefer for you to say, Go press that shiny blue button on the other side of the console rather than go press that blue button over there.) Jigsaw puzzles (digital ones are fine but the real ones don't work right.)

Gender- female

Romantic and sexual orientation. Asexual polyromantic.

What kind of tumblr blog would she have: Kind of an autism+social justice+fandom shitpost blog With interesting science facts and pictures of minerals. Que? What Que? Lot's of funny stories and headcanons about her special interests.

Favourites

Colour, purple.

Food, soup.

Drink, coffee.

Stimtoy, Azure braid chew and heavy weight bike chain bracelets (spent fifty dollars so she could wear two at once and feel balanced) or boinks or boinks fidget or Illusions thinking putty or her yo-yo or just this really big marble she found that's black with rainbow shiny colours like oil on water. Or just try to do them all at once (it was a bad idea but it doesn't stop her from trying.

What's in her backpack- at least two notebooks, tablet, chromebook, chromebook cord, phone & tablet cord with backup battery pack thing for both, earbuds and large headphones, earplugs, Sketchbook, so many mechanical pencils, lot's of styluses, brush pen, black ballpoint and gel pens, just one bright pink gel pen, purple sharpie, silver sharpie, and black sharpy, occasionally a black and prism finish pocket knife (she says it's stolen, it was actually a gift from a friend) Pepper spray (actually stolen) and stim toys (see favourite stimtoys and add a foam stress ball that looks like a red brain, assorted bouncy balls, and cheap little rubber bracelets to chew on… some have been broken. And a chess piece pencil toppper to avoid shredding her pens and pencils) As well as various odds and ends (including steampunk goggles). It's actually a fairly large backpack and is covered in those little pins from Hot Topic and is black. She made her own secret pocket for the stimtoys and the knife (cut a hole in the lining under the plastic in the bottom that gives it shape. Remove the lining and the hole is closed with magnetic strips she cut from some fridge magnets)

Things that are more difficult for her- Crowds, asking for things, talking to strangers, dealing with emotions (beyond just locking them away) Talking under stress, finding things, anything that requires excessive physical coordination. Not remembering to listen to bathroom signals and only realizing she needs to go when it's really bad. Same thing with food, she'll forget to eat and then her blood sugar will go wacky and she'll get sick. Physical coordination is SHIT. Has trouble with people's ways of showing emotion (has to basically play guess who with emotions).

Things she can't deal with: Textures. Anything pear like is a NO. Apples are bad too. So are most berries. Certain noises, usually she just cringes and bears with it but if she's close to a meltdown, it's catastrophic. Overly strong flavours are usually a hell no. Complete blindness also will cause issues. Even if someone is telling her where to go because her sense of where her body is is pretty bad. Wearing unbalanced jewelry (earrings must be the same sizes, bracelets/rings must weigh about the same and be on same fingers/wrists). Phone calls are terrifying, WHAT EVEN ARE SOCIAL CUES!

Typical outfits: Black hoodie with laces up the sides, purple flannel, or batman jacket. Occasionally will wear other hoodies and flannels but these are the main go to things. Dark t-shirts sometimes plain, most are very soft and a little bit too big. Jeans are primarily the kinda skinny ones. She will either wear assorted converses or her combat boots. Black ring on right ring finger and a silver ring on left ring finger (both are spinners) and occasionally twin hematite rings on random fingers. usually has her Braid chew around her neck. Will sometimes wear a skirt with her t-shirts but must have leggings. Has a pair of steampunk goggles she wears for the hell of it+it's nice to block out some light now and then.

Physical traits. Hair is the colour of cherry cola and tends to curl. Eyes are dark brown. Quite pale, doesn't tan but doesn't burn either (legit stayed in the sun for 2 hours with no sunscreen, turned a tiny bit more gold and actually looked healthy). Small chest, wideish hips, small waist.

Meltdowns and shutdowns- typically nonverbal during both. Meltdowns can be violent and it's best not to touch her and to leave her alone. Will eventually curl into a ball and be ok. Once hurt someone (they touched her and she got them in the arm with her nails) during a very violent meltdown after her dad died, that's why her mother doesn't let her be around people without supervision. Very unfocused during shutdowns. Can sometimes be held but only if she knows you. Will lock herself in her room and draw/listen to music because it really does help prevent/recover from meltdowns and shutdowns (also sleep is good)

Quirks: Has a succulent garden she manages to bring onboard the TARDIS. Likes corsets (not a kink, the pressure just feels nice). Makes weird noises (squeaks, yells, etc) when poked or tickled (doesn't really like it) or surprised. Can whistle while smiling. Shoelaces are never tied but that's never the reason why she falls over. Sings alto. Mint chapstick is the best chapstick. Used to be involved with theatre and band, still plays french horn and can sometimes improv like nobodies business. Loves cards against humanity. Can actually really work heels when the mood hits, not a wobble in sight. Can't cook well but can bake, she's pretty good at putting sweet flavours together. Really messy, yet has to sort things (especially by colour. Colour is important.)

So, I hope this clears some things up about Blaine (yes, I am aware Damhsa means dance in irish. I like the sound of it) I'm thinking of having a secondary fanfiction based around her making a private blog that is basically shitposting about life in the TARDIS. Any thoughts on the matter?


	7. Why Is He a Potato?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, many apologies if I haven't made it clear, yes Blaine is autistic. She usually says aspergers out of habit and she likes saying "I'm an aspie" better. It's not an ableist thing, autism is aspergers and aspergers is autism. One is not better or worse than the other. Also, I'm gonna drop a quick vocab down below, just in case a few terms aren't clear. Not to suggest that you are stupid or anything, just that I realized a few terms may not make sense.

Asexual- Not having sexual attraction. Blaine is sex repulsed but not all asexuals are.

Dyspraxia- Often comorbid with autism. It's in the same family as dyslexia but not the same thing. Dyspraxia is getting signals mixed etc with your body (ex. Holding a mug of coffee, open pantry door and basically throw mug without meaning to) Blaine has some problems with fine motor control but it's the gross motor control that gets her. Running, balancing, and stuff is pretty difficult. It's not unusual to hear a crash/thud or see Blaine hit the ground with a cheerful "I'm OK!"

Meltdown- Shit has hit the fan and a fight-or-flight response is triggered. Usually from sensory overload in Blaine's case. It's not something you can really control or stop. At best it can be suppressed for a little or fade because the external stimuli that's triggering it has been removed. It's not a temper tantrum, it doesn't stop when you've grown up, it's not childish. Negative stimming tends to happen in Blaine's meltdowns (head banging, punching arms and legs, hand biting, etc.)

Polyromantic- Romantically attracted to some genders but not all (Blaine skips over the entire male side of the spectrum. She just doesn't have any attraction towards masculine qualities.)

Sensory overload- Too much external stimuli too fast. Can be physically painful. Often a result of Sensory Processing Disorder.

Sensory Processing Disorder- Often comorbid with autism. Certain senses don't process correctly causing things to be too much or too little.

Shutdown- The meltdown's shy little cousin. A meltdown is like a bomb going off in your brain. A shutdown is like a thick fog of poisonous gas is choking your thoughts and then a black hole. It's hard to think, everything is incoherent, the risk of sensory overload goes up a lot. It's actually pretty

hard to describe this stuff. Can come before or after a meltdown or just happen by itself.

Special interest- A common autistic trait is to be super interested in a specific subject and obsess over it. It can last a week, a month, their whole life. It can also bounce around as new things bring it to mind and BOOM the obsession with anime has struck. This anime mentioned aliens. Aliens are cool. I'm gonna watch/read more stuff with aliens *two minutes later* BOOM Aliens and anime are special interests. It's confusing but not.

Stimming- usually considered a repetitive motion (rocking, flapping, head shaking, spinning) or something like pressure or chewing. Used as a self regulation when environment is overwhelming or as a response to inner stimuli (emotions, thoughts, etc) Stimming can also be self injurous (such as chewing on lips/fingers, hitting, hitting head against things, picking at skin, etc.) 

Stim Toy- As the name implies, it's something to stim with. Chewies are these silicone bracelets, beads, and pendants you can buy. Blaines all time fave is her Azure Braid Pendant. Some stim toys click, other ones (yo-yo) provide motion and visual. It really depends on who it is though. If you need an example check out a site called (don't add the m it's supposed to be like that. Also, don't just google stim toys. It's. Not. What. I. Mean. It. Isn't. Don't. Do. It)

Also, I headcanon the Doctor as autistic thanks to butterflyinthewell's tumblr. You can't change that. You cannot make me change that. Don't bother.

Now, on with the story!  
\--------------------------------------------------------------

The sound started up again the entire room rocked subtly for a second. Vertigo washed over me for a second and then everything stabilized. Looking around at the railings and bookshelves, I spot a doorway leading off somewhere.

"Just how big is this thing?" I ask, now staring at the column in the middle of the console.

"Infinite"

"Where are we going?"

"London." He was smirking.

"London… When?"

"Oh, whenever we land there. You keep talking about lizards, though, maybe I should let you meet a lizard."

"So, one moment it's 'Time is dangerous' Now it's 'let us go to a random time and visit my lizard friend'?"

"Yes, but it's not a random time. It's in the Victorian era."

I grinned "Does your infinite spaceship have a closet?"

"It's name is not infinite spaceship-"

"Well?"

"Yes," He sighed "It does"

"Victorian appropriate clothes included?"

"Yes. Down the hall, go right at the turn, first door on the left." He twiddled with a few buttons "door's open."

((((((Time skip to when she's dressed.)))))(Sorry))

I look in the mirror at the dress. The corset's pressure is comforting but the skirt, well, it's a little bit ridiculous. I don't know why the Doctor has an entire room devoted to Victorian women's fashion, but it was still pretty handy.

I brush and spray my hair until the curls are a bit more uniform. Probably the wrong era style, but I'm not wearing a wig. Wigs are bad.

The entire outfit is heavy but maintains a graceful look that is downright baffling. With a final glance at the mirror, I head back to the console room.

Victorian London, the epitome of ridiculous clothes and warped ideals. The inspiration for steampunk too. I could maybe wear my goggles, But how am I going to bring my bag?

Great, time to go digging. I turn around and- uh, there's a messenger bag. The olive green canvas looks nice with the dress and would probably blend in with the time. I look around the room, a sneaking suspicion wrapping my thoughts.

"Erm… Thanks?"

No reply… But still, it's a feeling I can't shake. Note to self, wipe shoes on a mat. I don't want to piss off the spaceship. I glance at the mirror one more time. You know, I actually look nice in this.

I get back to the control room to see the doctor hasn't decided to blend in. Then again, he's an alien. Maybe that is blending in. I rush over to my bag and start emptying the backpack into the messenger bag. I tuck my braid chew into my sleeve and with a moment's hesitation I open the false bottom and pull out my pocket knife and clip it to the inside of my boot.

The rocking stops (sigh) and the hum changes slightly.

"We've landed?"

"See for yourself."

"How do we know it's safe?"

He grabs the screen thing in front of him and pushes it, causing it to spin around the console until in front of me. There's some circle word things but enough English to notice that it says oxygen levels and radiation levels are safe.

I find myself still watching for that headache. For inconsistencies and errors. Beyond being in an infinite possibly sentient spaceship everything seems fine.

The first thing I notice when we step out is that Victorian London smells absolutely rank. Like smog, feces, and dead things. It literally smells like shit.

"I was going to say I don't believe we actually time travelled, but then I breathed. My mistake." It's bad. Not overwhelmingly bad, just bad.

"What, the breath or what you almost said?" He's looking about trying to get his bearings.

I think about it for a second. "Both. Definitely both."

"Good thing is, we've landed almost exactly where we want to be, let's get going!"

"You make it sound like this is a common occurrence."

He just shrugs and takes off down the street.

I stumble and hurry after him while trying to see everything around me. I feel like Alice in wonderland. Except instead of wonderland it's time travel and instead of a white rabbit I'm following the majestic floof. Ok, not very Alice in wonderland. Especially since all I know is we're going to go meet a lizard.

The Doctor wanders across streets and down sidewalks until stopping at a door and waiting for me to catch up before knocking.

"If you faint, you're going home."

"Faint? Why would I faint?"

Just as I finish the question, the door opens. A- well, a thing that looks like an angry potato in a suit opens the door. I don't faint, but that is no lizard. I keep my mouth shut and try to look unsurprised. I'm probably failing but still, it's the effort that counts, right?


	8. Well, This Totally Isn't Interesting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter number eight?! *Gasp* I made it to chapter eight? It's a miracle! Finally got my computer back at home so I can work on it outside the school computers. I've been sick for the majority week so I haven't updated for a bit. Sorry. Anyway, I'm trying to figure out how to solve things with Blaine's mother. I'm thinking some psychic paper, some lies, and a visit from a Doctor explaining that Blaine is to go to a place to help her (her mother probably assumes it's to "cure" her autism but really it's just to help her explore the universe.) If you have any feedback? Please tell me! Questions, comments, theories, complaints, it doesn't matter. I really want to hear from you guys, it's like fuel for the creative process.
> 
> By the way, yes Blaine can be pretty squeaky. Her voice isn't terribly high pitched but that part is kind of based off of me. I make so many weird noises (squeaking included) that my friends came up with a term called "Pyper noises." If all else fails, squeak!
> 
> Love, kisses, and well wishes!

"Who is the boy?" the angry-potato-alien-thingy asks.

Boy? Oh well, I'm not even mad.

"Strax this is Blaine, Blaine this is Strax. He is from a war-driven clone species of alien called a Sontaran" The Doctor explains.

I try to say Well, it's nice to meet you Strax but I just kind of squeak. I close my eyes for a second and manage to say "N-nice to meet you…"

Well, I'm not fainting. Fainting is not happening. Nope not me. I don't faint.

As we are lead into the home by the potato- eh… Strax. I check my watch, count to five on my fingers, count back to one from five, and check again. Same time as when I first checked. I saw this thing about reality checks and lucid dreaming on YouTube and it's starting to become a routine for when I'm upset or unsure about how real things are.

Strax leads us to some glass doors.

"She's waiting in there." I hear what he says but at the same time I have this stupid fucking song stuck in my head and I'm trying really hard not to laugh.

"Blaine, stay here. I need to check something out." The Doctor is already turning away to walk off.

"Hey, you can't just leave me here. I don't know them!" I barely know the Doctor, but I already trust him. These people however are strangers. I get the feeling that the Doctor knows exactly what makes me different. But these people… I guess this is some sort of test, a way to make sure I fit the job description.

I take a deep breath, "Fine. I'll stay here. Just- Just don't leave me here forever. I don't want to go home, but I don't want to be stuck in one place either. If you do leave me in the Victorian era, I will accidentally fuck up time with my knowledge of the future." This is probably bullshit, but it is honest. It would totally be an accident. Even if it's just mentioning something by accident.

He takes off back down the hallway, already drawing the blue wand/noise thing from a pocket.

I peer through the glass doors. It's a green house? A woman (or at least they're shaped like a woman) is inside wearing a black dress and a black veil. It's see through but I can't seem to focus on her face. Strax opens the door and I step in, the warm humid air has none of the outside funk. Just the smell of humidity and plants.

"So, the doctor has another pet?" she says, I think it's kind of a question.

"Actually, I kind of found him." I think about what she said. "Wait- Pet? I get it, he's an alien, but I am a less than desirable pet. I'm more like a cat that wandered in from the street that refuses to leave."

I can't see her expression and I start getting worried about rambling too much.

"So, you know he's an alien?" She doesn't sound surprised.

"Yeah, he's an alien, Strax is an alien. You might be an alien. I'm technically an alien on every planet but this one-" I stop abruptly. Shutupshutupshutup.

"I'm not exactly an alien. My species was here first." As this registers I suddenly blurt out-

"Oh, then you're the lizard? He told me there was going to be a lizard! That's so cool! Can I see your face? I won't faint. I won't even run away screaming in terror! I promise!"

"Well, I can say you are certainly the type of person to travel with him." She lifts the veil off her head revealing glimmering green scales. "However, Lizard isn't really an accurate description. Silurian or Homo Reptilia is. However, Vashtra is probably the most accurate."

Wow, she's beautiful. I stop myself. Beautiful and probably much too old for me. You can't catch me gay thoughts. Actually yes. The gay thoughts can catch me. The gay thoughts own my ass.

"Victorian… Silurian?" I look around at the plants awkwardly. I'm still fascinated but interaction ability just dropped by about 50 points and it was running low to begin with. It's like I want to talk, but at the same time I know I'm annoying and ignorant and weird.

"You, um, you said your species came first. Just how much is first? I can't imagine you guys doing well in the ice age."

"Silurians were common much before your mammalian ancestors even began to diverge into apes. We thrived alongside the dinosaurs and were rather technologically advanced. Advanced enough to detect an extinction level event and go underground in a sort of stasis. I woke up early as they were digging for the underground. They accidentally murdered a few of my sisters and the Doctor saved me from being discovered and killed. "

"So, you guys are all still underground? You're just an exception? That must get pretty lonely. Can't you go back and wake up with the rest of them later?"

"I would rather not at this point. I have a home, a way of life, and love. There is no reason to return yet. Perhaps what I am doing now, will aide in creating peace when they do surface to discover humans swarming the surface of the planet."

"You think humans swarm now, you should see the future."

"How do you know I haven't?"

"Oh." Ummm, I hadn't actually considered that.

"Did you assume that I would have stayed there rather than with my love here? This era is… difficult but it is easy to go unnoticed here."

"I think I get it. Here if someone says 'Vashtra is a lizard!' A few people will hear it but , he could just be confused. In the time I'm from, they could post pictures and video on tumblr, YouTube, Snapchat, Instagram, Facebook, twitter and send it privately to everyone they know. Communication is limited here and sickness, alcoholism, and drugs often warp how things are seen. It might be common knowledge in a street or a town, but in my time it would be global in about a week. Enough people gather evidence and suddenly you've got the police, the scientists, three foreign governments, a white/human supremacy group, a major terrorist organization, and a lynch mob all over the lawn. "

"Precisely, here, it makes little difference who I show my face to. Most think I have some form of skin disease."

"Hell of a skin disease. Do they think it's contagious?"

"Only if I persuade them of that."

I try not to snigger "What, if you don't want people to stand too close you just tell them it's contagious?"

She smiles at me "Yes, it's quite effective."

"I can imagine." Just as I begin investigating a rather interesting plant, the Doctor comes running in turns to Vashtra, waves, grabs my arm and takes off running.

"Got to go, sorry." he says hurriedly as we leave. I'm pretty sure Vashtra sighs and shakes her head, smiling.

We run down the street. The corset is cutting off my air and my head is swimming. We are not heading back to the box however. I have no clue where we're going and it's a bit worrying.

"Doctor" I gasp slightly. "I finally- make a friend- and now- we are running- through Victorian London- and I want to know- why!"

No answer, we finally halt in an alleyway.

"Doctor, what just happened?"

"Shhhhh" He puts a finger to his lips and peeks past at the street beyond.

A man with spiky brown hair and a woman with red hair are looking around, and the Doctor points the strange humming device at them and suddenly, we can hear what they're saying.

"Doctor, I'm sure that's who we saw-"

"Yes Donna, I know, But how would he get from Pompeii to London?"

"I don't know, you're the space man!"

The man draws a similar but not quite exactly similar device from his own suit pocket and points it at a few places. He then frowns at it and looks over to our alley way. The Doctor moves back some leaving me the only one visible. I just kind of shrug as he looks me in the eye.

"I think, we should go-"

"What?"

"Wait, Donna, I think I saw him over there! This way!"

They dash off in the opposite direction.

Wow, I think his bullshit lies ability just levelled up.


	9. Light Up Buzzy Thing?

"Doctor" I look over to him.

No response.

"Doctor"

No response, he's still staring at where two had been.

"Hey, that one timelord with a blue box."

"Hm? Oh, what is it?" Great, now he sounds annoyed. Then again, it might be the accent. It's probably the accent.

"Were you in Pompeii?" I accuse, more importantly I think to myself, was he there for the explosion of mount Vesuvius? I have to change what track my mind is going on before I start babbling about pyroclastic flows and stratovolcanoes.

"Yes, not this me, that me."

I decide to file this away for later. I don't quite know what he means but whoever those people were, they bothered him somehow. Still, how did he survive the pyroclastic flows? Well I guess it would depend on where he was watching it from and how close to the explosion he was- enough. This can be asked later.

"So….." I trail off, what I was going to say is gone, it has flown from my head and joined the stinking noise of Victorian London.

"There are different versions of you?" Respecting privacy, yup, that's me alright.

"Yes. No. Me but not me" He absentmindedly gestures at himself as he starts down the street.

"That makes no sense but OK, it kind of makes sense. Would it be sexist to think you were the guy? He just seemed a bit more 'Look at me I know what to do'. Plus he has your light up buzzy thingy." Damn, he walks fast even when he isn't running.

"Light. Up. Buzzy. Thingy?"

"Yeah you know, the thingy that does this-[insert attempted imitation here]" Note to self: Don't try to impress people with mimicry.

"Sonic screwdriver."

"What does it do, turn sonic screws?"

"Potentially."

Well, the bonus of walking fast is that the Police Box is coming into sight.

The downside is that I might go home. I didn't throw up or cry or do anything stupid but some part of me insists that I'm going home. That there's nowhere for me. I'm silent as the doors open and I stand there for a second.

"If I'm going home, can you tell me? It wouldn't be good for me to run off and come back in, well, this…" I gesture towards the skirt.

"Why would you go home?"

"Oh." I think about my stuff, my mom, my plants. "I guess to lie to my mum and get my stuff… Can you say you're a psychologist and use some sort of alien mind control to make her think that I'm being taken to a special place where she doesn't have to worry about me?"

"I do not use alien mind control."

"Ok, what about flat out lies? Just explain things, show her some fake license thing. And then we sneak up to my room and grab my stuff!"

"That seems awfully mundane, it's a time machine, not like you'll be gone for years."

"Yeah, but I kind of left her thinking I'm going to start screaming and murdering people so…"

"You do that often?" His eyebrows, holy shit.

"Nah, not the murdery part."

(clumsy mundane break because author is a novice at this)

The doctor and I make a pretty good team. We have come up with a pretty good plan (at least I think so).

So, first, I come home. When mother calls to get me institutionalised, the Doctor has it hooked up to the T.A.R.D.I.S (the blue box has a name) so she gets a hold of him instead of me. He offers to come over and talk with her in person, complete with all of the papers for her to sign. She signs me off, I reluctantly say goodbye and leave. Then we time travel just a bit to grocery day when she's gone, and grab my stuff. I just have to call now and then with some stories like-

"I met this nice girl named Emma, she likes blue things. I also met Jacob, he sees weird things if he doesn't take his medication. Oh, and they took my shoelaces. The people seem nice except for Angie." I can write it out too before I call.

Then we leave and my mother could swear that she saw me get into the car and leave.

Apparently perception filter=alien mind trick

It won't work forever, but I just need the time to explain this.

It's probably a really bad idea, but hey, my life revolves around poor decisions and bad planning (and now, time travel)

I look at myself in the mirror before going back to the console and out the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so the plan is really improbable but I wrote myself into a corner OK? Her mom will eventually find out but that's gonna be later. Writing this chapter was like swimming through frozen syrup.


	10. The Story Isn't Actually Over

Right, so I think I'm gonna leave this part of the story here. I'm gonna start up on another part at some point don't worry.

Blaine's adventures are not over, but hey if you have an idea you can leave it in the reviews, I will still check them.

For now, this story will be marked complete but it will continue in another. I will post the name of it in the reviews once it's started. Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear readers and welcome to the first chapter. It's small but I made it. This is taking place with the 12th doctor after Clara died. I'm thinking It will stay between "Heaven sent" and the new episode.
> 
> If you have any advice on typos, keeping Blaine from becoming a (god forbid) Mary-sue please respond kindly. If you have any questions let me know!
> 
> Good luck and well wishes dear readers!


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